I Was Meant to Dance

We had to write a journal about a picture we saw and I chose a dancer getting her shoes ready.

I laced up my pointe shoes as tightly as I could. If they weren’t tight enough, I wouldn’t be able to complete my turns as steady. I pulled on my leg warmers over my shoes. These were my favorite leg warmers, my lucky ones you could say. Today was the day I was auditioning for Juilliard, the day I’ve been waiting for since I was in third grade. I had been dancing since I could walk. My mom always told me that she knew I was going to be a dancer by the way I danced around in her belly when she was pregnant with me. There was fifteen minutes till my audition, and while I watched all the other girls stretch and practice, I just sat there and day dreamed, day dreamed about what I was going to be doing when I got out there. I need to be confident. Confidence was the key to dance. If you were confident you could pull off a certain step, you would faster than any of the other girls that were out there with you. The other thing I wanted to do was stand out, to be different. I wanted to stick in their mind, to know exactly what dance I did when they looked at my name on the list. The steps I was going to preform were different than most, arranged in ways that are not normally arranged. Ten minutes left till my audition and I began to stretch. I bent my toes in my pointe shoes, arching my feet, trying to prevent from early foot cramps. I leaned forward and rested my head on my thighs, wrapping my hands completely around my feet. Dancing is where I felt at happiness. All my worries were gone while I was dancing. Even when my number was called and I stood up for my audition, I knew I was going to be okay. I was meant for Juilliard. I was meant to dance.

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